Yesterday, I chose the butterfly cup. As I daily do I considered which cup to set the tone for the day.
Groggy from fitfully sleeping at first and then sort of languishing, I had been still and quiet
waiting for the sunlight to come.
The butterfly mug was the choice and I waited for the coffee, frothed it with vanilla, checked on the dog and sat in my spot.
“Metamorphosis”, I thought.
I remembered the realization of why I loved a recent read.
What I thought was honesty and authenticity was something different, something I felt more clearly.
It was her “loving tone” and I decided quickly I want to be a writer with such a tone.
I want to be a woman whose tone is loving.
I realized it’s life that decides this for us. We just embrace the gift and most importantly be satisfied in it as enough.
I finished another collection of angels yesterday. The surprise of them being so intriguing to others at first surprised me.
I thought and debated on their titles, “Flourishing 1-7”.
Then I wrote down the reason for this name. I reflected on the process of their creation.
I paint paper.
I tear paper into pieces and I manipulate the shape.
I add colors in right places, I use what might have been thrown away to create a new thing.
These pieces, this process all happened sweetly accidental.
My granddaughter and I decided to make butterflies from pieces of some of my old and packed away papers.
And it simply began. This process that resulted in and continues to evolve into stories on canvas.
Happenstance has been the gift of this silent metamorphosis.
Sort of natural and more than sort of unforced.
Like the butterfly, beauty resulted from waiting quietly and still for it to ease from within
Spread gently its wings and fly.
Yesterday after church, my granddaughter held tightly a piece of white paper, folded and creased many times by her little hand.
Her mama held onto it like a prize as Elizabeth fluttered off to run circles with her brother.
I came home and added the final layer to the “Flourishing” collection, photographed them and added descriptions.
“Richly layered with color, these pieces represent flourishing to me. We think less about flourishing in the Winter months. We’re more likely to feel a bit “neutral” if we were to describe ourselves as a color palette. What if we leaned into the confidence that in what may seem to be a dormant season is actually a time of great internal growth? The truth is that whatever feels hidden or delayed is leading to our growth in lasting ways.”
I’m not sure others will see this on the canvas. It’s what I feel in the process and it’s my hope that love, that tone comes through.
My artwork, when unforced comes from within not without.
The postures, the colors, the movement and strokes so very often mimic wings.
I changed a piece yesterday afternoon late. It had been abstract, it had been soft and yet bold but only an idea of what I hoped it would say.
My brush found the lines, the curves that I know.
The tilt of the head in prayer, the waiting posture of one in the wings.
The patient figures believing, along with me, in the process, the secret one.
Calmly waiting to see what might develop, might say what’s needing to be said both clearly and lovingly.
And mostly to know that the process that both comforts and guides may offer hope to others.
This morning, after resting well, I chose the simple ivory mug.
The day is unfolding.
So is the love. Wait slowly.
Stay with it, the tone. Always hope.
We may know who we are.
We surely know who we’ve been.
But, we don’t know fully who we are becoming.
We should surrender to the art of us, not resist.
“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”
Lamentations 3: 25-26 ESV
Always hope.
You are loved.
And becoming.
Lisa Anne Tindal 